Demented
by Princess of Promise
Summary: Dom and Chris are space nomads, left to space in the aftermath of the most recent Ice Age. When they land for a routine repair-and-replenish stop for their ship, they meet Matt. They soon find that Matt has his own problems, which span across multiple star systems and are bound to get the three of them into serious trouble... [Muse Dedicated to my peeps at PB. ;)]
1. The MKII

**DEMENTED**

**Chapter 1**

_In the end, there are always those that you cannot trust._

_~2013_

_For my dear friends at PB. Keep up the good work :3_

* * *

The ship rolled violently to the right.

Chris, who had beforehand been repairing, or rather, _attempting_ to repair the cataloging system for the ship's food storage system, felt the tiny cabinet of a room shift slightly, alerting him to a turn. He thought nothing of it until his eyes landed on the gimbal ball, which was quickly drifting past the red dot indicating 45 degrees of angle. Upon passing the red dot, the entire room locked up and swayed to the right, throwing Chris against the wall. Papers and bottles flew everywhere, at which point Chris let loose some pretty choice words, mainly directed at Dom, who was supposed to be piloting the ship.

"Oi, Dom! _Wake_ the _fuck_ _up!_"

Thankfully, the ship had slowly begun to drift back towards a safe angle, allowing the pantry of a room to level itself once more. This easily allowed Chris to regain his footing and stand back up, then make for the door leading up the short set of stairs. As he ascended the steps, he thought of increasingly terrible things to say in order to insult Dom's piloting skills, but upon opening the thick metallic door to the piloting bay, he found that this course of action was unnecessary. Dom was fast asleep in the third seat over (or as Chris preferred to call it, the Red Velvet seat); a part catalogue laying open on his lap and a clipboard on the floor next to his right hand. He was supposed to be checking up on the immense parts catalogue and make sure that everything was functioning properly, in preparation for their reparation and restocking stop on Barcelona.

Chris stepped to his right and in front of the Red Velvet seat, where the aforementioned Dom was snoring away. Chris bent over, plucked the hefty checklist off of Dom's lap, and opened it to page 915. He then stood straight up, placed each of his hands on the front and back covers of the book, and promptly slammed it shut right in Dom's face.

His reaction was instantaneous. Dom jumped up from his slumber with a great flailing of his arms, knocking over a full cup of Colombia-brew coffee and hitting the steering mechanism up and to the left. As a result, the ship slowly began to list to the side. Chris, knowing full well the effects of a locked-up leveling system, jumped forwards and righted the ship back into its' proper course. He then hit the Auto-Pilot switch, only to discover that it was covered in a thick brown mess of sugar, milk, and coffee. He tried flicking it again. No such luck.

"Well, nice going there Dom. Add that to the rest of the parts that we need to get replaced. From the note at the top of the catalogue-" Chris stopped to unstick the adhesive paper from the front cover of the book-"...I'd say that there is a pretty long list as is."

Dom shrugged sheepishly. "We just spent three and a half days on Iiliu-that's five days for us, remember-trying to trade in old Hallanese rocket boosters. Give me a fucking break. It's not easy trying to find somebody who actually wants those pieces of crap."

Chris did not seem impressed. "Well, we sold them anyways, and for a nice block of credits too, might I add. But if you really couldn't wait until we got to Barcelona, then why didn't you just turn on the auto-pilot? _Before_ you spilled the coffee, mind you."

"Because it wasn't working before you woke me up." He pointed at the list Chris was still holding. At the bottom was written in neat, slanting letters: _'AUTO PILOT SWITCH + WIRES'._

Chris reached behind his head and scratched his neck. "Sorry, Dom, I should have guessed. We really need to move that cup holder so stuff doesn't spill on that switch anymore. Hang on, speaking of, let me add tea to this list, we're almost out..." He unclipped an ink pen from the wall and began to write. At this point, Chris was almost muttering to himself, trying to think of anything else they needed. Dom took this as an apology and stood up from the Red Velvet seat. "Hey Chris, do you mind driving for a bit? I wanna go and clean up a bit before we get there."

Chris nodded, shut the catalogue, stuck the paper back to the cover, placed the pen into a holder on the button panel, and settled himself into the blue pilot's seat, front and center. Before doing anything, however, he turned his head to the side and spoke over the top of the seat. "Dom!"

Dom poked his head out from the stairwell door. "Yes?"

"How's the gravity gauge?"

Dom muttered under his breath for about five seconds, trying to remember what the gauge was at when he last checked it. "Holding at five as usual. Why?"

"I was feeling light-headed earlier. Want to get it checked out when we land?"

Dom turned around, and just before he closed the door to the cockpit, said "Yes" loudly enough to wake up an entire rest stop worth of ships. Chris just rolled his eyes and took hold of the control mechanism, attempting to keep the ship on track. "Come on, MKII. You can do it, baby," he kept saying to himself every now and then.

* * *

Chris and Dom were humans that originally hailed from the planet Earth. Upon being told the news that the Earth was soon to enter a new Ice Age, scientists from around the globe rushed to scan and catalogue various planets for human inhabitance. The results of the scans were overwhelming, as over two thousand planets in the local region of the Milky Way galaxy were able to sustain human life. Immediately ships were sent out to explore these potential planets. As initial suspicions speculated, alien life forms were already present. Upon further inspection of the first few planets, quite a few intelligent species already existed. Upon delivery of the life-altering news, nobody was alarmed nor surprised. The factories on Earth were all shut down, World War One style, and re-opened as spaceship assembly centers. When the first releases were made available to the space programs across the world, there was an immediate demand for seats on these ships; mainly by millionaires and important dignitaries. They were the very first people to depart the planet Earth for good, making for the new world they dubbed as Barcelona. A few more years passed as the assembly lines continued to churn out ship after ship, gradually becoming smaller and better tailored towards personal use. The commercial ships continued to sell their seats for permanent evacuation, eventually at low enough price that a person could buy a seat at the same price as a twenty-gram stick of chocolate. The sale of personal vessels skyrocketed, to the point where robots were forced to be used to assemble the vehicles. Chris and Dom-best friends at the time-were lucky enough to be working in the factories when their line suddenly stopped production, and the finished ships were left abandoned in the delivery lobby. The order was being given to evacuate the factory, for the missile systems that held back the ice shelf had failed. Dom had gotten a bright and clever idea, which turned into reality as they secretly boarded and flew away with one of the ships in the MK line, taking the route to Barcelona that every other Earthling had followed before them.

That was eleven years ago.

Now, Chris and Dom were merely space nomads, who had no real place to settle down and call home. As Chris once told Dom: "I think I prefer it this way, traveling around." The decision definitely worked out in their favor in the end, because ever since they picked up old scraps of rocket parts, they have made a entire living off of selling them for large gold blocks of credits. What they needed to do with all of those credits neither of them really knew. Chris's plan was to settle on the moon Rasser and join the rest of the human colony occupying the ball of rock. Dom had a slightly different idea in mind, one which involved Barcelona and a massive trading business. Once they gathered enough credits, they would decide on a course of action together. The only obstacle…was their ship, which was partly unfinished when they first drove away with it. It needed constant reparations and was a pain to find parts for, but it was the best that they had, and it would have to do until their aforementioned goal could be reached.

* * *

"**Hello, you are now entering the Barcelonian trading nework. Please, enjoy your stay. **_**Hallo, sind Sie nun in…"**_

The ship's controls automatically began to steer of their own accord, effectively jolting Chris and forcing him to jerk his hands away from the control wheel. Every time he and Dom entered the Barcelonian's gravitational pull, a flight controller on the surface of the planet would access the MKII's mainframe and steer the ship safely towards the nearest possible docking point. No matter how many times they had gone through this process, no matter how well they knew that every pilot went through the same protocols, either Dom or Chris (depending on who was piloting) would be taken seriously aback by the sudden loss of control of their precious and all-important space transport. It was a strange, unnerving experience for those whose ships were not functioning on all twenty-five light panels.

Chris stood up from his seat, no longer concerned about the auto-pilot switch malfunctioning, and opened the door to the stairwell. He went down half of the staircase and then opened the door to his right, where one of two bathrooms was located. He expected to find the room empty, but upon swinging the door against the wall, Chris encountered a rather large obstruction preventing the door from properly opening all the way. Poking his head through the gap, Chris could see Dom sitting on the floor; a pink leopard-print shirt draped over his arms while he slept away once again.

Chris sighed in frustration, twisted the doorknob so the door could not close, drew it back to a closed position, and promptly shoved it back open with a _lot _of force.

"_GET UP, DOM!"_

* * *

_Tell me what you thought :3_


	2. Matthew

**DEMENTED**

**Chapter 2**

…_Life inevitably throws us curve balls…_

_~Carre Otis_

* * *

The MKII's chrome-plated cargo door slowly came down to form a gently-sloping walkway off of the back of the ship. Chris stepped onto the door's metal hexagon grates, carrying a relatively small backpack, a leather clasp wallet – a rarity – in his back pocket and about three full bars of golden credits in his front pockets. Behind him, a freshly-dressed and suspiciously watered-down Dom (clad now in black pants and the leopard-print shirt) came walking up next to Chris. In his arms were the part catalogue and the self-adhesive list.

Chris was the first to make it onto the tarmac. He stared about in awe, as if he had never seen the planet before in his life. "Hello again, Barcelona," he whispered to himself.

Barcelona was a massive, rather imposing planet that lay in the exact center of seventeen major intergalactic trading routes. Its appearance suggested that of a gaseous planet, but it did in fact have a legitimate surface. Its' atmosphere, from above, was tinted a deep cerulean blue, with massive streaks of white and grey swirling around the entire world. From the surface, however, the sky was almost constantly boiling over with a series of thunderstorms, and what little daytime showed through the dark grey clouds and lightning held the look and feel of a glorious sunset. It was a rather strange atmospheric occurrence, which made this planet very desirable for seekers of real estate.

Dom nudged Chris out of his awestruck state and said, "You've been here before, Chris. Come on, let's go change these credits and find Osmolnd."

* * *

"Osmolnd, do you think you can fix this?"

Dom was standing next to Chris, looking at a short, stubby man who was currently up to his elbows in the engine compartment of the MKII.

The man turned his head and cast a somewhat humorous glance in the general direction of the two. "Well, if I ever told you no, then you wouldn't be here, would you?"

Dom contemplated this statement. "I suppose so. You are the best, after all."

Osmolnd's cheeks flushed a bit with the complement. "Thanks, man. It's not often I get treated so kindly by a client."

Osmolnd was rather famous for his repair services on Barcelona, but most people treated him like you would treat a homeless person: an undesirable. Osmolnd was of a hybrid breed: half human and half Puix. As his appearance was marred by various markings embedded into his arms and much pointier ears than a normal human, he was easy to identify as an undesirable. He still gained clients, but they treated him with indifference or even violence. Dom and Chris were welcome exceptions, for they were very kind and accepting of the strange little man. He was the person they always came to for repair services.

"Chris? It's going to be a while before you guys can leave. There's something wrong with the artificial gravity. I can't tell you what yet. I'll have to get one of my friends down here to take a peek at it. Hang around the area, though, okay? Just in case I need to do anything else. These ships aren't that common and I might need your input."

By this time, Osmolnd has climbed entirely into the engine compartment. A small golden object then flew out from within. Dom raised his hands and caught the tiny saudering wrench.

"Stay here, Chris? I can change the credits and get what we need. I'll be back in an hour." He handed the tool to Chris and began to walk away.

Chris nodded. Then he placed the wrench in his right hand and threw it inside of the compartment. Osmolnd jumped up from inside and caught it just as it was about to make contact with the hood.

"You're pretty good, Osmolnd."

* * *

"Thank you, Miss."

"You are quite welcome, sir. Have a nice evening."

Dom was, at the moment, buying more tea for the ship. When the bartender asked Dom what he would have, he had asked if there was any tea for sale. Dropping down behind the bar for a split second, the lady came back up, heaving up a large crate of black tea. It was far more than needed, but since Chris had given him a bar and a half worth of credits to work with, Dom figured that a few extra bags of tea mix couldn't hurt. He had walked out of the bar, happy with his purchases. He already had bought a few bottles of coffee grind, a small bag of screws, a screwdriver, two new pairs of shoes, vitamin supplements, and a bag to hold it all. Overall, Dom was pleased with himself. Going on the supply run himself gave him a sense of accomplishment. In space, a sense of accomplishment was important to keep ones sanity intact.

Dom was just passing through a small alleyway lined with restaurants when a small Hallanese boy ran straight into him, causing Dom to lose his balance and drop the crate full of tea. Rubbing his fingers, he was about to shrug it off when a short, black-haired man burst out of one of the restaurants and tripped right over the box. Behind him, several cloaked figures emerged from the same exact place, turning around in circles, looking very confused.

The man who had tripped managed to regain his footing and stood upright. He gave Dom a thankful look. "Thanks, man." He then escaped down the end of the street before the figures could turn back around and notice.

Dom muttered to himself. "That was…different…"

* * *

Chris was just getting ready to track Dom down himself when he emerged from the side alley, looking a bit frazzled. Dom kept walking until he reached the foot of the ship, and set down the supplies he had bought.

"You okay, Dom? You look like you saw a ghost."

Dom shook his head. "I think someone was trying to get out of a mugging. He ran out of the restaurant and tripped over the crate of tea. I think I might have saved the poor bloke's life."

Chris clapped Dom on the back. He swept out his free arm to the sky as he spoke. "Congratulations, for Dominic has just saved somebody's life! Whatever shall he do next?"

Dom pulled himself away. "Ha ha, real funny. Is our ship good to go yet?"

"I don't know. Osmolnd and his friends have been trying to repair the artificial gravity for about an hour now. Osmolnd?"

As if on cue, Osmolnd poked his head out of the engine compartment and nodded. "Everything's working fine now. Remind me again why you guys couldn't take a finished ship? You were in a showroom full of them."

Dom smiled. "It's not like we can spot problems automatically like you can. Hey, good for you, right?"

He handed Osmolnd a few hundred paper credits. Osmolnd decided not to argue and folded the credits up into his pocket. "Thanks, guys. Try not to overheat everything again, okay? Sure, that ship will do you much good over the years but it's still a delicate thing. I always say: "Treat your women good and your ships better."

Chris help up both of his hands. "Appreciate it, Osmolnd, but we kind of have to go now. You guys have an actual storm coming in and those last for days." He pointed through the window of the workshop, where a gigantic silica storm was sweeping across the horizon. "Better leave before we get stuck here and Dom decides to get laid by some alien chick." He looked pointedly at Dom, who held his hands up in mock innocence. "Hey, you said 'Do whatever.'"

"Okay, okay. Let's go. Thanks again, Osmolnd."

And with that they gathered up their things and boarded their newly repaired vessel.

* * *

"Hang on, Dom. Let me just see if this thing works again."

Chris flicked a switch on the control panel. A soft, pleasant voice spoke from inside the cabin. _"Please input the destination of your choice on the following screen."_ A glass panel rose up from the main control panel, displaying the entire sector they were presently in.

"YES!"

Dom poked his head into the cockpit from inside the hallway. "Told you Osmolnd fixed it."

Chris ignored Dom as he zoomed out to the adjacent sector and selected Hallan, then the 'Stop at threshold' option. He tapped 'okay' and the screen disappeared into the board.

"_Thank you. You have selected: Hallan. The estimated arrival time is seven hours and forty-five minutes."_

Chris turned to Dom. "Can you brew some of that tea? I think I might want to lie down for a while."

"Already did. Here." Dom handed Chris a small plastic cup full to the brim with black tea. He gulped it down and dropped the cup down the trash receptacle, which Osmolnd had one day bolted a plate to bearing the name "Memory Hole."

"I'm just gonna go get something from the cockpit and then I think I'm going to lie down as well. You need anything, Chris?"

"No, I'm just gonna go."

Dom pushed past Chris and into the cockpit. Right after that, Chris made his way down the stairs and to his room. Dom proceeded to open up a compartment and stuff a single gold bar of credits inside. This was what Chris liked to call the Backup. Whatever they had left from supply runs went in here, and this time Dom was lucky enough to save an entire bar. He also deposited a necklace he had found on the bar while he was picking up tea. It wasn't worth anything, but he thought to keep it for bragging rights. He dropped it inside and shut the door, then dug a blanket out from a bin above the Backup and turned around to go back downstairs.

There was a man standing there, right next to the main pilot seat. He wore a look of pure hate on his face, as if Dom's decision to get a blanket was the reason that he had been discovered. He wasn't very tall, but he was cut up rather well. He had black spiky hair and his shirt was of red silk; a rarity these days. At first, Dom just stood there with a confused expression. He pressed a button on the wall behind him, which was the ringer for Chris's room. Not moments after pressing the ringer, Chris came pounding up the stairs and into the room.

"You better have woken me up for a good reason." Then he saw the strange man in question. "Oh."

The man imitated his expression. "Oh," he said in a shrill, falsetto voice. He turned to Dom. "You seriously don't recognize me?"

Dom concentrated, and realized that he had, in fact, seen this man before. It was not even five hours before that he had tripped over a crate of tea trying to run away from somebody.

He recognized the guy. Oh, he recognized him alright.

"What the fuck are you doing on our ship?"

* * *

_I apologize for the long wait. As always, tell me what you thought :3_


End file.
